The Gray Fox
by BadOrange
Summary: F/DragonbornxBrynjolf. Brynjolf gets involved in a game and finds himself completely out of his depth...M rated!
1. Chapter 1

He wanted her from the moment he saw that gleam in her eye, the sign that she was just not some ordinary Nord that had accidentally fallen helpless in Riften. He had taught her the basics, but she brought some class to thieving, she was agile he would give her that, but the way she worked her victims, she was a master, a thieving goddess herself and Brynjolf couldn't take his eyes off of her.

He watched her sway, almost dance, between the crowds, a quick hand reaching down and stealing coin, stealing rings even necklaces; flirting with the victim, running her fingers down their chest, whispering sweet nothings to distract them from reality. She was a beauty, nothing that Brynjolf had come by working and lurking in the sewers, he needed her not only for the Guild but for himself, to cure that aching groin of his.

She had brushed off his advances at first, she wasn't interested in his honeyed words, the twang of his accent, or even the way he flirted, calling her Lass. No, she wouldn't be interested in a Nord that she could read too easily, his eyes gave away all of his desperation. He wanted her, he told her that, only to join the Guild of course, but she had set up Brand-Shei for no other reason than to feel that shot of adrenaline electrify through her as she delved her nimble fingers into his back pocket, and sneaking away completely undetected.

But he sweet talked her into a bigger deal, he wanted her and she wanted the money. It was a win win situation as long as she stayed in control of him and the Guild. He had asked her to perform many things for him, well, for the Guild, but she wasn't stupid. Brynjolf knew that much and whilst he tried to capture her alone in the Cistern she would always find a way to worm her way out, unless it benefited her.

He knew what she was and what they called her, it had fascinated him even more; a woman with a dragon's soul, a prized possession, if only he could get his hands on her. He had succeeded once, and god he had thought he'd die feeling something as incredible as her. She was drunk, a little reckless but Brynjolf liked his woman a little...adventurous. It wasn't that he had taken advantage, oh no, she had certainly known what she was doing, and even sober she now came back for more.

After joining the Guild she eventually worked her way through the ranks, rising to fame throughout Skyrim and replacing old Mercer Frey as Guild Master, a worthy title of a thieving goddess. She had finally restored the Guild and now people feared it, and feared her. A reincarnation of the Gray Fox, even if the Dunmer denied it.

She was spending a usual afternoon away from the dingy sewers in Honeyside, reading through the books she had stolen or had been given on her travels, running her fingers through the pile of diamonds she had on the table, wondering what the best way to sell them was. She hadn't been stuck for money since joining the Thieves Guild; in fact she had more than she ever really needed, so much of it that she had stashes of it in coin pouches throughout all her homes across Skyrim; not really caring if someone broke in to steal it.

It had been a long time she had tackled any difficult heist job, it gave the other, younger thieves chance to train up their skills and become just as great as her, but in process it meant that she was bored out of her mind, waiting to save the day if the novice Thieves screwed up badly enough. Since becoming the Guild Master it was her job to stay on the back line, give out the jobs rather than perform them herself, she would have declined the offer if she knew what it entailed before taking it up. She enjoyed the thrill of avoiding capture, the joy of hunting lost, expensive treasure and she found it even more exciting with Brynjolf by her side.

The evening was quiet, with the occasional pottering of enchanting swords and daggers to make them look fascinating and decorative. She didn't regret not getting drunk in the Ragged Flagon with the others; she disliked Delvin's forwardness and Vex's reproach, more so when they were both in a drunken stupor from the wine. She had recently come to the conclusion that they didn't need her there to run the Guild, it had already worked wonders whilst she criss-crossed across Skyrim finding more adventures to accomplish.

She had done enough celebrating with them all, once the Guild was rich again and the luck of Nocturnal restored; it seemed a little pointless to her to celebrate by getting drunk with every single successful mission. Her liver just couldn't stand that much ale. She had, however, found another way to celebrate. They had been getting closer over the years, her and Brynjolf, and she had eventually warmed to him, as she supposed the other women did too. They arranged heists with each other; plans to find expensive treasure, with both such talented Thieves nothing could go wrong.

It wasn't until the evening, when the moon was crescent and at its highest point in the sky when she decided to call it quits and get some rest. She had undressed and tucked herself up in bed, her eyes almost falling closed when she heard a familiar clicking and the occasional snap. She grabbed the dagger beneath her pillow, sliding out from underneath the covers, the house creaking in the night. She extinguished a few candles and listened for the old wooden door to creak open. She perched over the ladder leading to the basement holding the hilt of the dagger tightly in her fist. She smirked to herself, certainly an exciting way to finish an evening spilling a poor wanderer's blood.

The footsteps crept into the building, closing the door behind them. She peered around the corner and saw familiar dark leather boots, her eyes wandered up, eyeing up the Nord's stocky figure, his hood covering most of his dirtied face. He stalked over towards the table, fingering the diamonds that she had placed on top of it, cursing under his breath as he tipped the pile, forcing some of the jewels to clatter to the ground. She watched with curiosity at the man's clumsy nature, a waft of alcohol greeting her, with the familiar scent she found a small amount of comfort in.

"Well, well," She stepped out from the shadows, rolling the hilt of the blade in her fingers. The man stopped dead, barely able to distinguish her face in the dark, "A lone fox finally crawled back into its den." She had missed him, she'd let him have that one. It had been a while since _he _had visited her especially since she had given him a spare key to Honeyside. She had definitely never allowed anyone that privilege before and well, he had blown her off on too many occasions, she just might as well snatch that key back from him. She wasn't the type of woman to be chasing around after some man who had been the one interested in her. Especially now since they had admitted a small amount of feelings for each other. It was her who enjoyed being the hunted and not the other way around.

Her voice danced through the air towards him, wrapping him in fear.

"We missed you down in the Flagon Lass," His voice was steadied and cautious, a feeble attempt at trying to hide his drunkenness.

"Well let's call it revenge for you to missing out on a great opportunity the other night," Her voice was like silk, stirring up lust in the Thieves pants. She knew he would learn to regret the night he had stood her up, even if he claimed to have missed it due to a Guild issue. He took a step forward, his face falling into a small glimmer of orange light. He pushed back his hood, his red locks knotted and hanging against his shoulders, he couldn't resist the smile that crept longingly across his lips. She was a sight he couldn't deny the pleasure of seeing.

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A/N: I am certainly nervous for this story (It seems I have had so much inspiration lately that I'm spewing out smutty one-shots whilst writing my sequel to The Companion). I wanted to write something exciting and playful, and hopefully that will become a more prominent feature in later chapters, along with a few intimate scenes with our favourite thief!


	2. Chapter 2

He eyed her up, drooling over the way the linen gown clung to her, accentuating ever inch of her body. He longed for the roughness of her white skin, an unbridled passion he had only experienced with a few others. He grabbed her, dragging her into him and crushing her body against his. He kissed her, the taste of ale and something sweet intertwined. She let out a little moan, hardly resisting the drunken Nord's influence. He pulled her towards the bed she had previously inhabited and in the last second she had pushed him down, straddling him and noticing the excitement in his eyes.

She grinned wickedly, unfastening his clothes, running her nails down his heated skin, causing him to respond with a depraved growl. She tugged away his Guild armour, kissing his chest, and moving down towards his stomach, his groin aching in anticipation. He took a sharp intake of breath as he sprang free from his constraints. She pulled his leather trousers down past his hips and he watched her with amazement as she ran her tongue gently over his ridge. A strangled growl escaped him barely able to resist the temptation to thrust forward.

She watched him struggle, the look which she sickeningly fantasied over, his eyes full of desperation and lust. She had never met a man like Brynjolf, and hoped she never would again. She licked her lips, running her fingers across his length forcing him to grip the sheets and snarl with frustration. She smirked and wrapped her soft lips around him, catching his gaze and listening to him pant as she had her way with him.

He tried so hard to resist the involuntary buckle of his hips, the shudder of his body as he tried to prevent the darkness. He heard her laugh, wickedly, teasingly, and gritted his teeth as she teased his aching manhood with her tongue, finally releasing him with a playful pop.

She barely gave him time to regain his breathing before she climbed on top of him, pulling away her dress and running her warm breasts against his naked chest. He bucked his hips and she gave him a naughty look, wanting to punish him for breaking into her house. Too drunk to use his key.

His lips curled up into a smile as she rubbed herself against his length, enough distraction for her to cross his wrists and tie him to the headboard. An imaginative way to punish the man who had always desperately wanted her.

His smile vanished, realising what she had done. He noticed the torturous gleam in her eye, enough to drive him insane if she didn't give it to him already. He growled again, struggling against the fabric around his wrists, she laughed tauntingly, moving her warm body across his, kissing his chest, pressing his length against her folds, brushing over him lightly enough that he let out an agonised growl of need. He needed her, to claim her, like he had always dreamed of and boasted of to Delvin in the Flagon. But she was a witch for evading him, a true thief for not getting caught.

She poised over him, her hands moving across her own breasts, moving her fingers down to pleasure herself as Brynjolf watched in desperation, in awe at the woman before him. Sickeningly torturing him and he was powerless to stop it.

Her breathing hastened, coming out in short gasps as she almost reached climax, he growled again the need becoming too strong. Her dark eyes were seductive, she whispered something to him, lowering herself onto him, positioning herself so that her breasts grazed his chest and she could watch as his own breath hastened as she started to move against him.

He had dreamt of this since he had met her, the way her body felt and all of the ways he could touch her and tease her. He had dreamt since that first day of claiming her and he had a few times before but he wanted to make his mark on her scarred skin, to prove to every man in Skyrim that this Gray Fox belonged to him. He wanted to be the only one to have her, his selfish, hungry nature for prized possessions overpowering. If only she wasn't so...deceiving.

He fought viciously against his constraints desperate to caress her body, run his fingers across her white skin and pull her further into him to give him that friction.

He felt himself needing the release, tightness gathering as she moved faster and faster bringing him closer and closer to the edge. He started to let out desperate moans, uttering her name causing a flicker of supremacy to cross her face. She stopped suddenly, his eyes snapping apart, his lips opening to curse at her but she snapped her hands across his mouth. She tensed around him, reluctant to budge as he attempted to move his hips, to finish what she had started.

She felt him lose the momentum and started moving against him again, waiting for his body to turn rigid and for the rapid gasps and moan to hasten. She stopped again and he scowled, cursing her for such torment. She smiled decadently, touching herself, his eyes full of passionate hatred for the woman on top of him. The desire of her body getting the better of him once more.

She had tricked him before, so many times and he had fallen victim to every single one. He couldn't help himself, she had a power of him and he was weak against her, he followed her to the ends of the earth and whatever game she had prepared next he would always be the pawn. He didn't mind, he had his revenge, she'd let him ravage her and the same sequence would pan out again. It had already been years and he never tired of her games.

She started to moan and he relished in the thought that as soon as he was free he would make her scream his name. Teach her a lesson for making a mockery of him. He felt her building up to her orgasm, her body clenching around him, enough for him to lose himself but she pulled off at the last moment and called his name as she climaxed. A sight which Brynjolf never thought he would see.

Her breathing was heavy and she pressed her lips against Brynjolf's, running her tongue delicately over his. She rubbed herself against him; he groaned feeling the heat and wetness, moving his hips needing the friction for the release. She would definitely pay for this.

She moved off suddenly, shimmering away from the bed. She mocked him with another smile, a deceiving smile. He followed her with his eyes curious as to what other things she had in mind, the thought secretly arousing him further. He watched her hips move through the darkness, tempting him.

"What are you doing Lass?" His voice was coarse and almost a sob, his desire unbearable, the need for release just too unbearable.

He watched in disbelief as she pulled on another linen dress, smirking at him through the thick haze of lust. He watched in horror, struggling against his confinements to prevent her from leaving. She crept towards the front door and stepped outside, calling for the guards.

"Lass!" Brynjolf's voice was clearer now, with a different kind of desperation, "Don't you dare!" He called out. She let a wicked giggle. He could already hear the heavy footsteps of the guards.

"This man," He heard her say, he frantically fought against the material around his wrists, in incredulity that the woman he desperately lusted over was about to make him the laughing stock of Riften. He would have none of that, "Broke into my house."

She heard him thrash about, the wooden bed creaking, the guards rushing into her house and arresting the naked Nord, no questions asked. She had of course bribed them by telling them she was with the Thieves Guild. Brynjolf cursed her name as the guards untied him from the bed, his face a bright red. He frustratingly tried to make out her expression through the darkness of the house, the guards dragged him towards the door as he struggled, trying to snatch the pants she had so briskly stripped him of before. He was taken out of the house, taken through the night to the cells. She smiled to herself, knowing that Brynjolf would certainly now regret standing her up. She would never let him live it down and she knew that he would plot a revenge just as humiliating; it was now his turn to act.


	3. Chapter 3

She had waited purposefully until morning, enough time for him to begrudge her some more, enough time for her to prepare herself to break him out of jail. She pulled on her armour, fastening the buckles tightly; she sheathed a dagger in her leather satchel, just to be careful. It wasn't that she was malicious towards Brynjolf, she enjoyed his company more than anything else, but she found a perverse pleasure in causing him grief, wanting to know his reactions and how far she could push him towards the edge. And yet he didn't fully understand how lost he had found himself in the Dragonborn's wicked games; he was certainly out of his depth with this one.

The sun crept over the long wooden buildings as she ran towards the jail, Riften already creeping with life. She headed up towards the Jarl's hall avoiding the guards and creeping towards the side door to the right which led to the jail. She stalked past the guards, as agile and as silent as ever, feeling excitement bubble up inside her. She enjoyed these games, her wicked trait playing havoc with her lover. But he relished in the thrill of a wild partner, he would never find that perfect specimen a bore, not now not ever.

Trapped in the cell thanks to her, he reminisced on their first job together, and the many more that she had asked him to tag along with. She toyed with him whilst working, trying her very best, always, to get him caught and in trouble. He loved that buzz, that adrenaline rush and in return he would repay the debt and try and get her caught back. Knowing full well that she struggled to get out of sticky situations more than he did. He had the charm but she certainly had the power of beauty.

He grimaced from the headache that was slowly creeping up on him, Delvin had made him drink, or perhaps it was because he had challenged Brynjolf to a drinking game which forced him to drink so much. The idea of winning or more like winning a bagful of coin was something Brynjolf could not pass up on. But of course he hadn't won and Delvin had rubbed it in his face and poor Brynjolf had gone to seek solace in his Dragonborn lover. He had expected an evening of paradise, with his hands snaking over her, kissing her and pleasuring her; not to be trapped in jail sexually deprived and humiliated.

It had been the first time she had gone so far, to actually put him jail was a new level she had taken the game to and he would fight back with just as much ferocity. He had guessed that her nasty streak was racing through her, he had been caught after all leaving the sewers with another woman, an innocent situation, he knew that, but she had thought otherwise. He had told her that she was just doing business but his past unfortunately didn't support that claim. Even after accidentally missing their 'meeting' the other night due to Delvin's adverse drunken behaviour she still believed that he had another lover. Like he would be stupid enough to let a woman like the Dragonborn slip through his fingers. He would have to prove his love to her to stop the insufferable torturing she was causing him.

She crept past the guards in the entrance and walked inside the building, she stalked quietly, down the long stretch of corridor to the cells, avoiding the gaze of the patrolling guards; grabbing the hilt of the dagger in her palm prepared to slash their throats if the situation turned sour. She searched the cells with her eyes, finally finding Brynjolf pressed up against the iron bars, looking rather sorry for himself. She grinned and raced towards him, he scowled hearing her footsteps, a little more pissed off than usual.

"You didn't have to wait all night Lass," He narrowed his eyes at her, his voice thick with annoyance. She gave him a delicate smile, a perfect cure to erase all the anger he felt for her away. She pressed herself up against the iron bars and beckoned him for a kiss. He admired her briefly, her hair tousled and her eyes dark and seductive, he let out a sigh, incredulous that the woman before him had such an effect on him. His groin ached, visible in the ragged pants the guards had thrown him.

He noticed the way the Guild Armour clung to her figure, caressing and accentuating every inch of her curvaceous feminine, yet strongly built Nord figure. He saw a small flicker of a smile cross her lips and he watched her pupils dilate and her eyes widen in curious suspicion, noticing the growing region between his thighs.

He was reluctant at first; wanting to deny her the satisfaction that she had won this round. She certainly annoyed him, the way she mocked him with that deceiving smile and the eyes that stitched rotten kisses onto his chest. But he just couldn't get enough. He crushed his lips against hers, taking her off guard and seemingly to melt against him, her whole body useless to prevent the longing she felt, a little guilty that she didn't get to see him lose himself in her the previous night.

"Now Lass," He pulled away, her eyes full of yearning, "Get me out." He loved that look, the look of a woman drunk on love, or so he liked to think. It justified his own feelings, he found her just too intoxicating for things to be only one-sided.

"Aye," She replied, a little out of breath, "But first..." She had already snaked her hand between the bars and was running her fingers across his groin, soft enough that Brynjolf was already at full erection in no time at all. He let a little growl, frustrated more than anything. He watched her slip her hand beneath the cloth and rub his manhood, it took Brynjolf all of his strength to fight the urge to come there and then. After her toying last night he could barely contain himself.

Through gritted teeth he cursed her and adored her as she moved her lips towards him, wrapping them around his aching region. He let out a stifled groan, struggling to prevent himself from alerting the guards of his sudden outburst of pleasure. He felt a surge of panic coursing through him, a mixture of fear and adrenaline not wanting to get caught by the guards and both put in jail for public indecency.

He gripped onto the bars in his fist, his knuckles white, thinking of how good she felt, working her magic on him. He let out another uncontrollable moan, urgency written across his face, adrenaline rushing through him as he heard the footsteps of the guards. Suddenly he let out another groan, along with an elongated 'mm' losing himself to her. He panted heavily, after last night's stalling he could finally have a selfish release, but it certainly wouldn't stop him from punishing her later.

She smirked, swallowing Brynjolf's load, getting to her feet and looking at the Nord's redden cheeks and tightened jaw.

"Nice?" She teased, pulling out a lock pick from her satchel. He glared at her, adjusting himself, wanting to desecrate that body of hers, making sure she wouldn't be walking for the rest of the day, or the rest of the night, "Oh Bryn," She mocked, he replied with a scowl finally catching his breath, "Perhaps I should keep you in here," He responded with a growl and she smirked, running her long white fingers up and down the Iron bars in front of him.

"You dare Lass," His voice was low and menacing, causing a cold shiver to shoot through her spine. She relished in his annoyance, provoking him even more. Revenge for standing her up, when she had planned a more intimate evening and revenge for that woman she had seen crawling out of the sewers behind him, sneaking back into the city from the graveyard acting as if nothing had happened. Brynjolf had insisted she was just a friend and she had believed him to an extent but still needed justification from Delvin. And Delvin had told her exactly what Brynjolf had, but it was still fun to tease him for it.

"Oh?" Her eyebrows raised in a mocking manner, his brow furrowed further.

"Get to work!" He barked with a dominating demeanour. If only she could keep him locked away, something about him being behind bars sent her libido soaring. She sniggered playfully. If it was up to her, Brynjolf would have made a better Guild Master than her any day, it was a shame he just wasn't as good as her.


	4. Chapter 4

She started getting to work on the cell door, quickly picking the lock and listening to that quiet click sound indicating that the lock was finished. She struggled to hear it, the racing of her heart louder than usual; Brynjolf's presence was wrecking havoc with her nerves. Brynjolf acted as her lookout, or more a distraction. He ghosted his fingers across her hips, whispering naughty words to her that scorched her cheeks, turning them red. Soon after many several failed attempts, thanks to Brynjolf's distracting tactics, she managed to free the Nord and made haste back towards Honeyside, knowing exactly what would happen as soon as they returned back home. She eyed Brynjolf up as he stalked alongside her through the dingy jail hallway insisting that he somehow managed to look great even in ragged clothing.

They managed to escape undetected, chasing each other through the streets of Riften, Brynjolf with a wicked gleam in his eye. Adrenaline shot through them both, urgency coursing through their veins and as soon as she stepped over the threshold into Honeyside, Brynjolf had already got her pinned up against the wall. He started smothering her with harsh kisses, his hands tugging at the leather armour that restricted her body from him. Now was not the time to play nice.

He growled menacingly, tossing away her armour, snatching up her breasts and tugging on her nipples, hard enough for her to shriek, stirring up a hungry depraved demon inside them both. His face was plastered with a wanting stare, he tugged away the rest of her clothing leaving her bare in front of him, a sight he was terribly fond of. He drank up the sight of the woman before him, every inch of her milky white skin a sensation that drove his testosterone into overdrive. Already, he felt his aching region a nuisance, lust cascading through him. He pressed her up against the cold stone wall, a growl rolling in from the back of his throat, both of their breathing a whirlwind of passion.

He flung her around, her cheeks a burning fire. He forced her over and admired the view, grabbing her smooth rear end in his hands; he thrust into her, a little rough, a surprised gasp escaping her lips.

She remarked him with a deadly stare causing a teasing laugh to erupt from his lips. He thrust harder and deeper, animalistic noises escaping her enough to send an explosion through him, he could barely hold himself together. He grabbed her hips and pulled her back to meet him with every claiming thrust, he growled feeling her clench around him, her wetness a clear indication of how sickeningly aroused she was. It pleased him to know end, knowing that she wanted him just as badly as he wanted her. He squeezed her rear end, earning him another shriek and an angry glare.

He slammed home with a sudden eagerness, the previous night playing out in his mind. His imagination raced with the thoughts of her screaming his name over and over. He moved faster, her moans coming out as loud screams, her hair a tangled mane. She arched up against him, rubbing herself to his rhythm, moaning his name. He thrust into her, snatching up her breasts and twisting the hardened pebbles none to gently, she gasped and he grinned wickedly.

He drove into her harder and deeper, holding her hips in place, listening to the ecstasy of her guttural desperate moans each time he ploughed into that sweet spot, wanting so desperately to drive her insane. He groaned, shuddering, spilling himself, his release unimaginable, he panted, his grip slacking and thrusting slower this time as he finished.

She turned to him, pushing her knotted hair out of her face, her cheeks a bright rose shade. He grinned defiantly, admiring the red marks he had left across her body. She glared at him, mischievously, and planted a decadent kiss upon his lips.

"Finished with me?" She asked with a heavy voice, he grabbed her again, planting more fierce kisses against her lips running his coarse fingers over each raised scar.

He had asked her many times about the stories behind each individual scar, he felt slightly unnerved at how her past was still a mystery. Each jagged or flamed scar a tale that he would have to patiently wait to hear, like he ever had the patience. He wanted all of it now, the entirety of her life to be completely his, to know how devoted she could be caused a flicker of a tender smile to cross his face.

"What?" She gave him a confused expression, shocked by the sudden sentimental atmosphere. It was unusual for Brynjolf to give her _that look_, the way his eyes were a little clouded over and the way he seemed to look straight through her, or perhaps, fully looking at her in a completely different way.

"Nothing Lass," He replied, the smile quickly turning into something more sinister. She started to move away from him, gathering up her armour that he had so carelessly tossed onto the floor. She moved towards the bedroom and he watched her intently, her body gliding so precariously over the wooden floor, towards the other room, that he just couldn't take his eyes off of her.

He watched her hips move as she sauntered towards the bed, her backside a bright red. He grinned to himself and followed her, catching her before she slipped between the sheets.

"One moment," He snatched up her arms and slunk them around his neck, he kissed her tenderly this time, stroking himself back to full erection. She moaned, her eyes honeyed over, her breath still heavy.

"I'm not interested," She replied, running her fingers down his chest, stopping ever so abruptly on his abdomen. She had that familiar gleam in her eye that had first attracted him to her. A smile crept across his lips, a new game already beginning.

"I'm not finished with you yet Lass," He teased. He hadn't had enough revenge yet; it would take a life time for her to pay back what she had done to him. The mockery she had caused him. He knew she would boast about it to the others, and they would relentlessly hold it against him. But now, they both had time and with the Guild back on track and without the interference of the others he certainly wouldn't be letting her leave Honeyside without her debt repaid. He wouldn't let the Gray Fox get away with it this time.

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A/N: Hope you've enjoyed! x3


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